


Breathing Stardust

by kianne



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alien Planet, Altered Mental States, Falling In Love, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, jim is a navigations ensign, the kids are fresh outta the academy, they don’t know each other, this aint beta read but it is currently sitting at 50k so strap in lads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianne/pseuds/kianne
Summary: Fresh out of the Academy AUKirk and Spock are stranded on an alien planet after crash landing and having no way to get in touch with the Enterprise. It becomes more than a mere matter of surviving when it becomes clear something about the planet is affecting them deeply.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Breathing Stardust

Alarms were wailing, red strobing uncomfortably behind Jim’s eyelids. With great effort he dragged them open, trying to ignore the sensation that his stomach was lodged somewhere around his throat. His senses returned to him much too slowly as the shuttlecraft lurched sideways violently again, causing him to bang his already aching head against the control panel he was slumped over. Someone screamed in the distance, or maybe it was him, he couldn’t tell. He braced his hands against the panel for stability and raised his head shakily, wincing against the blinding pain behind his eyes.

He blinked trying to clear his vision, and managed to focus on the person next to him; a greying man who was frantically flipping switches and slamming buttons. Stevens, his name was. He was shouting something too, but Jim couldn’t decipher it against the roaring in his ears.

“Interference-“ He was saying. Jim knit his eyebrows together in concentration and watched his mouth closely. “Engines unresponsive, going to have to-“

And then he was gone.

The metal of the hull screamed as it tore away, taking Stevens with it. The sudden rush of cold air slammed into Jim, startling his senses back into compliance. He didn’t afford himself the time to catch his bearings or even begin to process the gaping hole in the shuttlecraft where his pilot had sat moments before. He just grabbed the controls, body flinging itself into automatic.

They were _way_ too close to the ground for comfort. Cliffs rushed past the hole in the ship, sharp and jagged and deadly. The left engine was completely unresponsive, half of it probably torn away by the cliff, and the right was stuttering and choking thick black smoke. Not the best odds.

Jim could see water glittering in the sunlight, close enough that they could make it if he was smart. The ship was at a dangerously jaunty angle as the right engine refused to even splutter in response. If he let the shuttle tip completely sideways he would lose all control of the thing and they’d spin out, probably smashing themselves to smithereens on the cliffs before they could even wreck out on the ground.

 _Fuck it_ he thought, and gunned the left engine as hard as he could. The ship barrel rolled to the right, momentum of the flip giving just enough force for Jim to get the left engine underneath them so they were balanced precariously sideways above it. He slammed sideways in his seat, held precariously in place by the straining seat straps. The new angle made his head pound harder and didn’t do anything for ease of control of the craft, but he forced his body to adjust to it. He’d been in worse sims, he told himself as his hands slipped clumsily over the controls, his face turning steadily red.

“Ensign, I’m not sure what your intention is but the likelihood of your success is low,” Came a strained voice from the back of the ship. Jim didn’t respond, hands too busy flying over the controls trying to keep the ship steady.

“It’ll work!” He yelled back through gritted teeth, not glancing away from the controls. It _had_ to work.

The water was tearing towards them now as Jim steered the ship in a shaky line towards it. At the very last second he dropped the shuttle back right-ways up and gunned the nose upwards. The rear of the ship slammed into the water and ricocheted them upwards again. They landed again, slamming hard into the water, ship creaking and groaning in protest as they skidded along the surface like a huge skipping stone. Waves crashed around them as they were thrown about the cabin. The momentum of the shuttle slowed and the freezing water began rushing into the craft, icy claws tearing at Jim’s lungs as he gasped.

Fingers already numb, he scrabbled at the clasp of his seatbelt but couldn’t find a good grip. He yanked at it uselessly, breath coming in sharp gasps, but it wouldn’t budge. Then his hands were being knocked away and someone else was ripping the buckle open for him with such force the metal twisted and tore.

The water was nearly to the top of the view screen now and Jim barely had time to gulp a lungful of air before it crashed over their heads. They clambered out the hole in the hull, fighting against the force of the water still rushing in. When they were free of their metal prison they kicked against the hull to propel themselves upwards, but the surface was too far. Jim wouldn’t be able to reach it. His movements were already slow and sluggish and his head spinning. He tried to see how far away the surface of the water was, but all he could see was sunlight dancing and shimmering like a mirage, miles out of reach.

And then his arm was in a tight grasp and he was being dragged upwards, head lolling against the drag of the water. After what felt like minutes but could only have been seconds their heads burst through the surface. The freezing air tore like fire through Jim’s aching lungs and he greedily dragged more in between wet coughs.

“Can you swim?” The man asked, voice strangely calm. Spock, Jim recalled. His dark hair was plastered to his face, and his usually pale skin was tinged green with the cold right up to the tips of his pointed ears.

Spock shook him firmly by the arm he was still holding. “Jim, can you swim?”

A silly question really, of course Jim knew _how_ to swim. All cadets had basic water training at the Academy. But then Spock jammed his elbow in the small of his back, adjusted the vice like grip on his arm, and kicked out his legs, tugging them through the water together with brisk, efficient strokes. Jim wanted to protest but his legs dragged uselessly through the water as if stuffed full of lead, so he shut his eyes and focussed on filling his lungs as the world bobbed uncomfortably around him.

The muddy sand at the shore was cold and firm when they lay on it, coughing and panting, water still lapping gently at their ankles. The sky was dusky lilac, fluffy white clouds floating overhead. This world felt too peaceful for the blood still thundering in Jim’s ears. Wind rustled through the trees gently and something that sounded like birdsong drifted lazily on the breeze. It might have been pleasant had circumstances been different.

“Spock, right?” Jim said once he was able to talk, rolling his head over in the sand to take in his companion. “You’re Vulcan?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said, voice steady despite his visible fatigue. “I am Lieutenant Spock, science department.”

“Jim Kirk, navigator. Human.”Still feeble with exhaustion, Jim offered a hand out across his body to shake, but Spock raised his hand in a neat ta’al instead. Right. Vulcans were all about no touching. _Stupid,_ Jim reprimanded himself. He tried to replicate the move but his fingers were still shaky and numb so the effect was somewhat ruined.

They’d met before of course, having been briefly introduced this morning before the away mission. But Jim had only been on board the _Enterprise_ for little over two months, and their paths hadn’t had much reason to cross before now. He’d _heard_ about Spock of course; being the only Vulcan on board and the youngest Commander currently in the fleet got you noticed on board a relatively small ship, but Jim didn’t know too much more about him than that, and Spock certainly wouldn’t know anything about some nobody navigator fresh out the Academy who hadn’t even successfully survived an away mission yet.

“Thanks for, you know, not letting me drown.” Jim said.

“Thanks are unnecessary. Your piloting skills are,” Spock considered for a second, “reckless, but impressive. I admit to being somewhat surprised we survived.”

“I landed the ship didn’t I? We only had one engine; I needed to get it underneath us,” Jim felt the odd urge to defend himself to this officer.

“I am not certain that qualified as ‘landing the ship’ as that implies the ship made it to land.”

Jim half snorted at the comment and a heavy silence descended over them as the weight of their situation started to set in.

“The pilot-“ Jim said, stomach sinking as he pushed himself upright. “Stevens- maybe he…” He trailed off, eyes frantically searching the coastline for any sign of life. Spock sat too, watching him with careful eyes. They both knew there was no way he could’ve survived that.

“I should’ve- I should’ve got my shit together. I should’ve noticed we were too close to those cliffs,” He broke off, not trusting his voice not to waver. This was his first proper away mission and the last thing he needed was to look incapable in front of his Vulcan superior after everything had already gone to shit.

“It was not your fault, Jim,” Spock said, “blaming yourself for something that happened while you were incapacitated and had no control over is illogical.”

If the words had been spoken by a human they may have been comforting, but Spock said them with a cool clinical tone that made Jim bristle. He _knew_ there was nothing he could have done while unconscious, he wasn’t a _moron_ , but he could have snapped out of it faster. Those seconds he spent blinking like a moron rather than remembering he’s a fucking Starfleet navigator - albeit a green one - cost their pilot his life. Jim grit his teeth and nodded with one sharp jerk of his chin, burning eyes fixed on the horizon.

They stayed there, sprawled on the beach with the cold water brushing against their standard issue boots until their limbs stopped shaking enough to hold their weight beneath them. Jim’s head was pounding and every inch of his body ached, but nothing was broken.

Now they were no longer in immediate danger, the planet was beautiful. The sea stretched out endlessly before them, shimmering green in the afternoon sun. The sand was muddy, almost clay, but littered with tiny fragments of shell. Jim briefly considered taking a sample for when they got back to the ship, but realised the _when_ was more of a glaring _if,_ and that there were probably more important things to be thinking about right now. Besides, they hardly had an excess of sample containers to hand.

“Do you recall what happened?” Spock asked finally, while Jim rummaged through the emergency pack the Vulcan had managed to grab from the back of the shuttle in search of the emergency communicators. He was quiet for a long while. What _had_ happened? He could feel the weight of Spock’s gaze on him, so he kept his eyes fixed on his task.

“I don’t know. I- I don’t know if I did something wrong, but the shuttle hit insane turbulence and I think I passed out?” The words came out like a question. Why did it feel like Spock was quizzing him and he might get the answers wrong. “When I came to we were crashing. We hit the cliff and it tore away half the cockpit and I think took out the right engine. I just needed to land us, I have no idea what caused the crash in the first place.”

Spock remained quiet, taking the information in without giving an indication of his thoughts on it. Jim wasn’t sure he liked - or trusted - that. He’d been scrutinised enough by every instructor at the Academy to be on permanently guard around anyone higher ranking than him.

“Do _you_ know what happened?” He said, perhaps a tad too accusingly. Spock gave no indication he noticed his tone.

“I was also rendered unconscious, though I came around faster than you; as did the captain.” He said. Jim clenched his fists. It wasn’t _his_ fault he’d passed out, Spock himself had said it wasn’t under his control, so why did he say it like it had been a weakness.

“No idea what could’ve caused it?” He asked, growing frustrated and upending the whole bag. 

“Negative.”

Jim glared at the pile of emergency supplies. They had always seemed somewhat excessive whenever they ran sims at the Academy, but now he was faced with being stranded on an alien planet for real, they seemed worryingly sparse. He spotted an emergency communicator - beefier and sturdier looking then the standard models they used, designed to survive crash landings - and snatched it up.

“Kirk to Enterprise,” He said. They waited a few tense seconds in silence. Nothing. “Come in Enterprise. Are you receiving?”

Still nothing. He smacked the communicator with the heel of his hand, glaring at it when it remained stubbornly silent.

“These things are meant to be indestructible, how in the hell have we managed to kill it already?” He cried.

Spock slipped the communicator out of his hands and tried it himself, completely illogically if you asked Jim - he did know how to work one of these things. As expected, it yielded no response.

“Fascinating,” Spock said thoughtfully, “not even an error message to inform us of interference or malfunction.” His eyes flicked away in a way that may have been thoughtful if his expression had changed once since they’d arrived here.

He passed the communicator back to Jim, who shook it and bashed it with his hand once more for good measure, and snatched up one of the phasers. He tried to power it up but the thing remained utterly lifeless in his hands. He tried the second phaser to much the same results.

“Oh, we’re so fucked,” Jim groaned. “No way of contacting the ship and no way of defending ourselves, that’s just _fantastic_.”

Spock ignored him. “This means it in all likelihood has something to do with the planet. As you said, emergency issue equipment is for all intents and purposes, indestructible. A crash landing and submersion in water should not compromise their effectiveness. The odds of the communicator and both phasers experiencing the same faults simultaneously are around six thousand, four hundred and twenty three-to-one.”

“Maybe there’s something in the atmosphere messing with the frequencies?” Jim suggested, squinting up at the sky as if that would reveal all the answers. It remained as peaceful as before. Fluffy white clouds drifting past utterly oblivious to their problems. “Should we just leave them here? Cutting down on weight is probably a good idea if we’re gonna have to climb those cliffs.”

“There is a possibility we will find a way to make them work later,” Spock said smoothly, “and besides, leaving Starfleet technology lying on an alien planet to be found by the natives would be considered a violation of the Prime Directive.”

“Right,” Jim said, trying to keep the bitterness at being corrected on such a fundamental point out of his voice. “We should get moving. We don’t know if this planet has tides that are gonna suddenly start rising.”

The cliffs were dotter with caves that were oh so tempting to take shelter in, but without any kind of knowledge about this planet, they couldn’t risk getting stranded in one when the tide came in. So they found themselves stood at the bottom of the cliffs preparing themselves for the long and arduous climb, for lack of a better way off the beach. It didn’t look like a difficult climb fortunately; sections almost formed pathways that could easily be walked, but other parts would need to be scaled.

“How’s your climbing?” Jim asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Adequate,” Spock retorted, eyes scanning the route upwards. He pulled a coiled rope from the bag, looped one end around his own waist and the other around Jim’s. Jim stayed quiet as he worked, watching his long fingers deftly tying the complicated knots.

“You ready?” Jim asked when Spock stepped away, securing the bag to his back.

“Quite. As Vulcans are stronger I shall ascend first.”

“We’re not even gonna arm wrestle it out?” Jim asked, flashing a cheeky grin. Vulcans did not roll their eyes, so Spock merely turned to the cliff face and began his ascent.

“I would request you attempt not to fall, Ensign. Take the climb slowly and with care. If you get into trouble do not hesitate to communicate so.”

Jim was human and could roll his eyes, so he did.

It hadn’t been a cold day, but high up the wind bit at Jim’s exposed skin, and snuck through his sopping clothes. Adrenaline and coldness made his hands shake so hard he almost lost his grip several times. When they finally hauled themselves over the precipice over an hour later, they had to lie on the ground to catch their breath for the second time that day, backs pressed into the greyish blue moss-like plant that covered the ground.

Spock of course recovered within minutes, so began re-coiling the rope while Jim panted on the ground next to him.

“Sun’s going down,” Jim noted, pointing to the fiery ball in the sky rather unnecessarily. “Seems to be setting pretty quickly too, it was about there when we crashed,” He pointed vaguely upwards, “and we can’t have been here more than three or so hours and it’s already,” he finger gunned the sun, clicking his tongue.

“We should attempt to find shelter before it gets too dark. We don’t know what animal life is native to this area, or the temperatures it could drop to,” Spock said, stowing the neatly tied rope in the bag.

“Toss me the communicator, I want to have another go with it,” Jim said.

“We have already attempted to make the communicator work. It is not logical to keep trying what we know will yield the same results when we have more pressing matters at hand, namely finding shelter.”

“The vantage point might have changed something if it was atmospheric disruption,” Jim snipped back, “and I can work while we move.”

“Negative, this is unfamiliar and potentially hostile environment and we are stranded. You will need your full concentration on your surroundings.”

Of all the people Jim could have been stranded on some godforsaken alien planet with, it _had_ to be the only Vulcan officer aboard the ship. The only Vulcan officer in the entirety of Starfleet at that.

“Fine. We should head for the woods. More cover means we’re more likely to find shelter,” Jim said, though he knew Spock knew this, and stomped off in the direction of the densely packed trees without a glance back. Regardless, Jim knew Spock was hot on his heels. 


End file.
